Childhood Chews
by curiouslyfic
Summary: Britain's top Aurors, brought down by chewing gum? It's up to Potions peon Draco to sort things out, whether he wants to or not. A de-aging Drarry, featuring Tiny Potter, Little Longbottom, Wee Weasleys, Ginger Granger, and a plushie named Grr.
1. Its a Wheeze

Childhood Chews  
by curiouslyfic  
Draco & co. property of J.K. Rowling et al. Samayel's Bewitching Changes convinced me that when Draco Malfoy has a stuffed dragon, it must be named Grr. Beta by shadowsamurai, mistakes by me.  
Tis fluffy. Be warned. Comments appreciated, if answered sporadically. Con-crit cool.

When Britain's top Aurors are brought down by chewing gum, it's up to Potions peon Draco to sort out the mess. If it's gone this wrong, it's just _got_ to be a Wheeze. A de-aging fic featuring Tiny Potter, Wee Weasleys, Little Longbottom, and a ginger Granger.

**It's a Wheeze**

"It's a Wheeze," Bennington said, and Draco found a new level of disgust for his boss. Glanced back at the office door, the only thing currently standing between him, a herd of mischievous magical toddlers, and the Ministry's main potions lab. Sucked up the urge to hex Bennington into next week because, of sodding course, this was a Weasley Wizard Wheeze.

"Why are you telling me this?" He looked at Minister Shacklebolt in the vague hope there'd be a better explanation coming.

"Two of those children are my best Aurors," Shacklebolt said, eyes narrowing. "All four are close personal friends. I want this fixed and I want it done last week, Malfoy."

Like Draco was somehow responsible for the continued idiocy of Potter and his friends. He stared blandly and feigned patience until Shacklebolt grunted what he supposed was Auror approval and continued.

"I can't let them out of the Ministry, not even for St. Mungo's. The _Prophet_ would love this one—they've only just stopped calling him the _Boy_ Who Lived." Shacklebolt cast a telling glare at the office door.

Okay, Draco could see his point. Having finally convinced the wizarding world to treat him as an adult icon rather than, well, a child icon, really, Potter probably wouldn't take it well if they saw him as he currently was…about four years old and drinking pumpkin juice from a sippy cup.

Still. For all the shit he took routinely, Draco wasn't caving that easily.

"Again, why tell me?" If the Malfoy, Slytherin, and Dark Mark weren't incentive enough to choose someone else, the potions lab peon status should have been.

Shacklebolt looked like the words were mild _Crucio_ to speak aloud. "We're told it's a potions-based problem, which requires a potions-based solution. Since the maker is currently—" Another vicious glare at the office door "—_indisposed_, we have to rely on someone in-house."

"And my name came up, did it?" Because it never did come promotions time, though he'd aced the testing.

Bennington turned an unbecoming shade of chartreuse. Shacklebolt straight grimaced. "Your name came up."

Draco considered that. Cast his own glance at the office door and frowned. "Who else is on the team?"

"No one," Shacklebolt snapped. "We're trying to keep this quiet, Malfoy. That doesn't happen with _teams_."

"Pfft. You're telling me you've lost Potter and several Weasleys, and the only person you're asking to get them back is me?"

"No one's lost anyone," Bennington said, hands fluttering in mad panic. Shacklebolt's eyes narrowed.

"Mrs. Longbottom and Mrs. Granger-Weasley asked for you personally, Malfoy," he said, and his tone promised that if Draco didn't produce adequate results, Shacklebolt looked forward to dealing with him personally, too.

And much as Draco hated his boss and the stuffy bureaucracy of the Ministry, he did rather like his job. Maybe not enough to pull off a miracle to save Potter from his own idiocy yet again, but Shacklebolt had accidentally stumbled on the magic word, so…

"Yeah, all right." Bennington sagged relief. Shacklebolt's posture eased. Draco smirked. "But what's in it for me?"

Right on cue, Bennington whimpered and Shacklebolt blazed. Merlin, it was good to be Slytherin.

His first task was to check on his subjects—patients, he supposed, though it made no difference worth mentioning. He found them trapped in the lab's snack room. Heard them long before he'd seen them all and winced as he opened the door.

The wee Weasleys thumped each other as though it was some strange fist-borne form of conversation. Tiny Potter sat dwarfed by his chair, both hands on the tiny handles of his sippy cup, eyes downcast. Draco spotted and dismissed these three, sought out the one he'd agreed for. Found little Longbottom hiding across the room, as quiet as Potter and without the consolation of the juice.

Draco crouched by Longbottom and moderated his tone to keep from scaring the boy off outright. Lovegood would never forgive him.

"Longbottom?" Those cautious eyes lifted to his, hangdog expression in place. "Do you know who I am?"

Longbottom's chubby little face screwed up in thought. "Are you my dad?"

Oh, this assignment was going to be a charm.

Despite her recently acquired last name, Granger-Weasley's hair shouldn't have been red. Though it was. Draco bit his lip for a moment, then gave in to temptation.

"Was that part of the wedding service, or just a general requirement for joining the family?"

Granger frowned. "Wheeze."

His brows rose. "This sort of thing happens frequently then, does it?"

Granger sighed. "It's been known to, yes. They like to test the new products personally before they put them to market."

"Contain the damage, you mean?"

Granger smiled. "So to speak."

Lovegood—Longbottom now, but he'd always think of her as Lovegood—turned her vague attention his way. "I knew you could fix it, Draco." Her half-smile hadn't changed since her first year at Hogwarts, not even with the horrors of her last. He thought Lovegood far stronger than anyone guessed.

"It's not done yet," he said. He'd only just agreed, after all. "I'll need access to their lab and whatever formula they were using. Do we have any idea what they've taken?"

The Weaselette still couldn't meet his gaze. No surprise there. "It was meant to be a Childhood Chew," Granger said. "As best we can tell, they meant a sort of second childhood feeling from, erm, chewing gum."

Top Aurors in England, brought down by chewing gum. Yes, he could see why they might want to keep that quiet.

"Well, it worked."

"Not like that," the Weaselette said, mild annoyance colouring her freckled cheeks. "It wasn't supposed to physically make them children, it was supposed to make them _feel like_ children."

He cast a glance at the office door. No point repeating that it had indeed done that. "How long was it meant to last?"

"Again, as best we can tell, until they stopped chewing the gum." Granger shifted in impatience. "They stopped chewing it four hours ago."

Draco believed in order through brewing. Ingredients stacked neatly, tools tended carefully, formula followed precisely. So it was hard to respect the Weasleys behind the Wheezes, despite all they'd accomplished, upon sight of their lab.

He found their recipe in, of all things, a hat box tucked beside a stack of Skiving Snackboxes and atop a collection of Exploding Wand packages. The Weaselette hovered at the doorway while he searched—though surely her need for a re-aged Potter would have diminished her apparent misery that he was poking through her brothers' things during their mutual incapacitation—and by the time he'd found what he was looking for, she'd huffed and sighed and sneered her way through an afternoon.

She'd warned him against a vague _Accio_ in that room, because Merlin knew what might happen should any of this mess be dislodged in the process, but they really didn't have time for an ineffective Muggle search, so as soon as her freckled red head was turned, he flicked his wand and muttered his summons.

Which was good, because damned if he'd have gone near those wands any time soon.

He reviewed it while they walked from the Apparition point to his office. Marvelled at what they'd been trying to do and snickered at some of the theory they'd used to do it. If they'd asked, he could have told them where they'd gone wrong—before they'd turned their testers into children—and the brewer in him already delighted in the challenge set forth.

Fixing this was not only going to be relatively simple, it would likely be fun. Perhaps he could talk to the Weasleys when this was done, make arrangements to look over…no, best not to think that. He had enough on his plate as it was without looking to add more.

And anyway, what were the chances the Weasleys would even agree? He suspected if The Weasel knew who was brewing his remedy, they'd have trouble convincing him to take it.

"You've found something, then?" Granger's voice caught him off-guard. He looked up from his purloined parchment grudgingly and nodded. "Something helpful?"

"Very." Much as he wanted to hold it his own secret until he'd worked through it all, the worry in her posture convinced him otherwise. "I'll have some research ahead of me, as your lot bunged up some fairly common theory in ways I've never seen before, but it's nothing I can't handle." Merlin help him, he even spared her a smile. "Don't worry, Granger. You'll have your Weasel safe and legal in no time. I swear."

"You swear?" She shot him a dubious look, then wrecked it with a slight smile of her own.

He held his wand hand up, held the other over his heart. "Malfoy honour. You'll have him back." Draco twisted to scan for onlookers, aware it was all quite beyond what he wanted his co-workers to spot. "Look, I've work to do and you've children to mind. I'll find you if I need you, yeah?"

Then he hurried back in to his lab, where he'd have no more dealings with compassion-causing Gryffindors.

Granger gave him two hours before she interrupted. Two hours more than he'd expected, really, but it broke his concentration all the same.

"Look, we're thinking of taking them back to the Burrow for the night if you can't sort this before bedtime," Granger said, glancing around the lab. "This really isn't a place for children."

"So I've heard." He didn't point out how much of his childhood he'd spent in Severus' lab with his mother. Four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Severus' name was still somewhat touchy among those who'd fought.

"So you're all right if we leave, then?" She watched him. Merlin knew what for. He rubbed his temples to clear the fog of research gone too far. Winced at the sound of squawking children when the door opened again.

"Well?" the Weaselette hissed. "Are we taking them home now or what? I think they're getting hungry and it's long since past their nap."

"What? Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand in dismissal, then cursed his own impetuousness. "No, sod it, not yet. It's a rush job, yeah? So I'll need access to at least one of them to monitor any changes in their condition." He thought it best not to mention the possible solution testing. Parents were notoriously squeamish about that sort of thing and under the circumstances, he thought he should consider these parents particularly attached. "Shall I ask Lovegood if she minds Longbottom staying?"

"We were hoping to keep them all together," Granger said. "You know, around children their own age so they wouldn't be as frightened." She glanced around his lab again, obviously disapproving of it as any place for children long term. "Were you planning to keep him in their little conference room, then?"

"No, I thought I might look through the Malfoy library for a bit. He can stay in Teddy's wing if he likes. There's loads of space there." Besides which, Pansy was due back with Teddy shortly and he could only imagine what she'd make of this mess if he wasn't there to collect the boy. Bad enough he'd had to call her in to Teddy-watch when he'd been called in to work. Right inconvenient, the Black sisters naffing off to the Continent like this, extended holiday or no.

Something glinted in Granger's eyes, something almost…Slytherin. Only years of Malfoy training kept him from gulping. "How much space?"

Until the last of the party stepped through his Floo, it didn't sink in that the whole escapade meant he was essentially hosting a sleepover at the Manor. Not that he minded, precisely, as he'd had Teddy over often enough to have child-proofed the place, but it was a bit baffling, all told.

The wee Weasleys held Granger's hands in what appeared to be momentary docility. Wouldn't last, he suspected, but it was better than instant rampage and wild magic, which was good.

Little Longbottom held Lovegood's hand, sheepish and smiling sweet.

Tiny Potter held the Weaselette's hand all right, but only a total twit would miss the way the boy shuffled uncomfortably, the shy looks he gave his surroundings. Tiny Potter, Draco suspected, wanted to bolt.

Well, wasn't that interesting?

"C'mon, you lot, let's find the nursery and get you all settled, yeah?"

The wee Weasleys looked at each other—and there was trouble, right there—and beamed. Little Longbottom moved closer to Lovegood, hiding behind her robes. Tiny Potter shuffled his feet and cast a quick, frightened glance at the Weaselette, who's face pinched at something.

"You have a nursery?" she asked.

Draco raised a brow. "You're in the Malfoy ancestral manor, She-Weasel. Home of every Malfoy heir for centuries. You thought we were hatched from pods ready for Hogwarts?"

Granger opened her gob, undoubtedly to chastise him for something, but Lovegood stepped up instead.

"Now now, children, let's play nice, shall we?"

It grated only slightly that Lovegood wasn't looking at the nursery schoolers when she spoke.

"Uncle Dragon!" He heard the shout from across the foyer. Braced as he turned and crouched, because experience said anything less was foolishness. Teddy Lupin might look small and harmless, but he barrelled like nobody's business and he'd mastered the bear hug early.

"Teddy Cub." He caught the small projectile cousin. Squeezed, part crush, part rib-tickle, just to hear Teddy's infectious laughter rolling through the Manor's too-quiet halls. How his parents had managed once he'd outgrown such sounds was beyond him—without Teddy there to lighten the atmosphere, he sometimes thought the place would stew in its own bleak memory.

As always, he found Teddy's face a rough, childish mirror of his own when he pulled back. Another Metamorphmagus for the family tree, he supposed, good-natured as Lupin—what he'd heard of the man's memory, anyway—and irrepressible as tales of his cousin Dora.

"Not Teddy Cub," Teddy pouted, then grinned and rubbed his now-pointed nose against Draco's. "Teddy _Bear_."

Draco pulled back further for inspection, cocking a brow and assuming feigned skepticism. "No, not just yet, I don't think. Still too small to be a proper bear." He pressed Teddy's nose like a button and watched it shift.

Teddy giggled again, then looked away, playing coy at the sound. Gasped and turned back, wide-eyed and incredulous. "There's kids in the Manor, Uncle Dragon," he stage-whispered.

"I know," Draco stage-whispered back. "They're friends of mine and they're staying here tonight. Is that all right?"

"In my room?"

"In your nursery."

Teddy considered that with all the solemnity Draco supposed a four-year-old might give the situation. Looked back at the group warily, then back at Draco to nod. "Yeah, all right. But just for tonight."

"Merlin, Draco, where've you been?" Pansy strolled into the doorway from the parlour, something he suspected was only pretending to be a proper cuppa in her hand. He knew the moment she spotted the group behind him. Knew she was too Slytherin to react much at all. "Hello, Luna. Draco, are we having some sort of Gryffindor slumber party and I've forgotten?"

"Hullo, Pansy," Lovegood said, dreamy smile in place. "There's been an accident and Draco offered to help us fix it."

"Accident? What sort of accident?"

Potter tugged on his sleeve. He knew it was Potter because Teddy was showing Longbottom the snacks and the Weasleys weren't ever this quiet. Still, it was something of a shock to look down and find big shiny eyes staring up at him, the smaller, fuller version of those familiar lips plumped and quivering. Skittish, he thought, and that didn't suit Potter at all.

"Please, sir, could you find the Dursleys?"

"Granger, what's a Dursley?"

She sought some nuance in him before answering. "Who mentioned them?"

"Potter. Wanted me to find it—them. What am I looking for?"

"They're his Muggle relatives."

"Oh." Draco frowned in thought. "Dunno how to get Muggles to the Manor. Maybe if you could get them to your Burrow, we could Floo them over? Can Muggles Floo? Or should I be trying to crack the Muggle repelling wards on the gates?"

Granger's expression softened. "You'd do that for him? Let Muggles in Malfoy Manor?"

"He's a child, Granger. Bad enough he's surrounded by things he doesn't recognize and things he doesn't understand. Even I'm not cruel enough to keep him from the people who'd make him feel safe."

She looked away then, he didn't know why, but he understood the need to compose one's self with a modicum of privacy. When she turned back, something steel showed in the set of her mouth. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, really I do, but trust me on this, the Dursleys won't make him feel safe at this age. How much do you know about Harry's childhood?"

Several minutes later, Granger's hand laid atop his while he absorbed what he'd learned.

His first question—and only, he swore, it wasn't his to discern Potter's deepest darkest secrets without the man's leave—seemed to surprise her.

"Was Dumbledore trying to make him a Muggle hater?" Because really, Draco couldn't see any other rationale.

Granger frowned. "Let's not ask Harry that, shall we?"

Hearing about Potter's nasty relatives explained quite a lot about the boy who'd been the Boy Who Lived. Faced with that lot every year at summer hols, Draco thought he might well have been a speccy berk, too.

"All right, you lot, bed time." Draco gave them the eye—which always worked on Teddy—and found it universally applicable to children. Good. Progress. The wee Weasleys went with Granger, who summoned the Weaselette to help her when the Weaselette lingered, which left Draco and Lovegood to get the others ready.

"Would you mind?" Lovegood asked, laying a hand on her belly. "I would, I mean, but I'm right knackered. Maybe if I just have a bit of a sit?"

Lovegood, pregnant. With a real Little Longbottom. Something inside him softened. "Yeah, yeah, you go have a kip, yeah? I've got a handle on these little monsters."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Or rather, we will be. Won't we, lads?" He turned back to the boys, who stared at him silent and unblinking until Teddy agreed, at which point both little Gryffindors followed suit. Really, the whole thing was remarkably soppy and if he didn't watch himself, he'd make Hagrid look stalwart in the face of adorable danger.

On no planet did Draco believe three four-year-olds harmless.

The scrubbing up before bed went well until Teddy declared it time for a bath, and Longbottom asked were there bubbles, and Potter stared wide-eyed at everything while Draco herded them into the nursery bath. A shallow pool perfect for splashing, but not so deep as to pose danger. Soft scented bubbles frothing from the taps, blue for shampoo, green for soap, yellow to dance along the water's surface like tiny snitches.

Draco wasn't surprised—but all the boys were—when Tiny Potter caught each one he chased.

Then it was out and dried and into pyjamas, soft and fluffy. Teddy's had snitchy spots, Longbottom's had dancing stripes, and Potter's had…oh. Tiny fangless serpents. Which, apparently, he was trying to talk to.

In Parseltongue.

While Teddy gushed that he'd only ever met one other Parselmouth and Longbottom asked how Teddy even knew one, Tiny Potter snuffled Grr, Draco's old stuffed dragon, hiding in well-worn green fur.

"I see you've met Grr." Draco crouched down, aware that standing tall over this lot cowed all but Teddy. Potter froze, then nodded, nose burying into the toy, fingers curled to white knuckles. "D'you like him? He was always my favourite." Those big green eyes were killing him. Just doing him in right there. With eyes like those, Draco really had to wonder how anyone saw the scar first. Tiny Potter was…scared? Waiting? Something solemn, far more so than any child that age should be. At four, Draco remembered playing with the house-elves and Pansy while their parents talked downstairs, not bracing like any word could be a strike.

Ideological shift aside, he thought maybe Muggle hating wasn't all bad. Just needed to find the right Muggles to hate, hadn't he? "D'you want to hear a secret?"

Tiny Potter's eyes shifted. Gor, they were near impossible to look at properly like that, open and honest and broadcasting his ache. "Yes," Tiny Potter said, mumbling quiet into the fur. Draco smiled and thought maybe Tiny Potter did, too.

"When I was little, Grr used to sleep with me. And before I went to sleep, I'd crawl into bed, snuggle up close, and ask him to tell me a story."

Somehow, Tiny Potter's eyes widened. "And did he?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he did."

Tiny Potter thought that over. "Will he tell me a story, d'you think?"

"Maybe. If you're good." Like Potter, tiny or not, could be anything but. Draco ruffled the boy's hair absently, irritated with the Muggle gits again when Tiny Potter stiffened.

"Oh." Tiny Potter frowned. Wrong as it was to see that expression on Big Potter's face, it was worse on this one. "I'm not very good."

"Bollocks. You're very good and anyone who says different should be…" He paused to find some child-suitable punishment, aware hexing madly wouldn't cut it with someone this skittish. "…should be turned green and left to stay that way."

"Green?" Tiny Potter giggled. "People aren't green."

"But some of them should be." And because it worked with Teddy, Draco poked Tiny Potter's adorable tiny nose. Tiny Potter scrunched his face accordingly.

Then Tiny Potter thought something over. "Will you tell me a story?"

"Would you really like one?"

Tiny Potter nodded. "If that's all right."

"From me, I mean, and not from Grr? He tells them brilliantly." He couldn't, in good conscience, allow a man who generally hated him—when he wasn't avoiding him—to snuggle up for a bedtime story over a potions mishap. Not feeling as he did.

But he found he couldn't say no to the boy, either, which was something of a dilemma.

Tiny Potter swiped his foot across the floor, toeing the carpet as he squeezed Grr.

Potter fell asleep before Draco got to the part with the princess, which was likely for the best.

The adults collected for tea—or something far stronger, he suspected, for the Gryffindors, who seemed skittish of the Manor. Like the house would eat them for being lions.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Weaselette asked.

"Taking a break," he said. "Union rules." He flashed her a false smile, watched Granger titter. Clearly, she'd had more than enough of whatever they'd been adding to their cups. "Actually, just letting a few of the ingredients combine. Need time to steep, yeah?"

"Steep?" Oh, the Weaselette was going to be a right charm, he could tell. Git.

"I could give you the long, drawn-out explanation of Potions theory involved, but I thought you'd prefer the prettied up version. Most don't like hearing just what they'll be ingesting. Or, erm, feeding loved ones."

Granger nodded like that was sage. Weaselette rolled her eyes.

"Fantastic."

"I thought so." Then, because it was bothering him just a tad, he said, "Granger, Shacklebolt said you'd asked for me. Personally, like."

"Luna said you'd be able to do it. Said she trusts you with her life. Or Neville's, as it happens. Is she wrong?"

"No." He frowned. "Just seems a strange choice is all. Me, helping your lot."

Pansy slid in then, goblet in hand and tipsy smile in place. "Oh, Dragon, now what did you do?"

If he didn't need her help with Teddy—well, and if they hadn't that twenty year friendship to consider, as well—there were times he thought he'd hex her horns on general principle.

"What makes you think it's me?"

"S'always you." He scowled. "Unless it's Potter." Pansy beamed. Tipped her glass to drain it. "Or you on Potter. Darling, I love you dearly, but if you don't sort yourself soon, he'll straight himself into marriage and you'll be the sad old git trolling the clubs for your monthly blow."

Then she cackled, the Weaselette swore, and Granger near-fell off her chair.

"Don't mind Ginny," Granger said once the Weaselette had fled. "She's just had, erm, bad news."

"Worse than her bloke turning preschooler?"

"More like her bloke turning bent," Pansy muttered. Draco's brows didn't quite launch off his forehead, but it was a close thing indeed.

"Sorry?"

Pansy turned to Granger and Lovegood, and said, conversationally like, "Honestly, s'like he never wants to get shagged, this one. Staring since fourth year and can't work up the stones to say. Been my life's work, I tell you, convincing him Potter's as bent as, well, a really bent thing. Rainbows and belly shirts and terribly cheesy dance music." Draco worked to reacquire speech. Pansy turned to him. Laid a hand on his knee and said, as though he were a particularly dim child himself, "Draco, honey, like I keep telling you, Potter is gay."

"Potter. Is. Four."

"Yeah, but you'll fix that soon, won't you?" Pansy smiled. Draco groaned.

Twelve hours later, Draco took his "aha" moment in stride. Summoned the grown-ups, those who could be near labs without risking harm to their progeny or Draco's shredded pride.

Pansy, for obvious reasons, was not among them.

Granger, at least, seemed at ease in his lab. Tension coiled off the Weaselette like static, but Granger was all right. Which helped.

"So I've solved the problem, I think," he said, waving at the nearest cauldron absently.

"Already?" Weaselette frowned.

"Child's play," he said. Smirked a bit when Granger snorted. "Oh, honestly, Weasley, it's not that difficult. Your brothers blew a fairly simple rule. Once I'd their notes, was mostly a matter of recreating what they'd done to test the possible solutions."

"And you've done that? We're taking them home now?"

"Not quite." He frowned himself. "I've a bit of testing left."

"What sort?" Weaselette shuffled her feet. Granger cocked her head.  
"Thought you said you'd need them by for that. Shall I wake them?" Granger offered.

"No, no, not yet. I don't run live subject tests first." Not to mention his newfound love of all things afternoon nap. Even if it wasn't, technically-speaking, afternoon.

"So what, you test the dead ones?" Weaselette turned nasty, ginger-clashing pink.

"Where it's possible, I test it on myself," he said, and watched the others fall into fluster.

Like sodding clockwork, that.

"You're sure about this?" Granger asked.

"Yeah. Sure as I can be." That ball of nerves lodged in his throat was a good thing, really it was. Adrenalin or whatnot. Nothing to worry about, all part of his process.

Though he rather thought he'd take it harder than normal should this fail.

"If anything happens to you, Malfoy, we've no other choices. I mean, no one else even knows aside from your boss and Kingsley, and the only reason we told them was because we couldn't just pull you off your job for however long this took without informing your superiors. Not even Molly knows."

"Nothing'll happen to me, Granger."

"Certain, are you?"

Odd, having that Gryffindor concern for himself. Strange, but nicely so.

He nodded. Ran through his plan one last time, a final check before he launched into what he hoped would prove mere mild entertainment rather than overt disaster. "There's more."

"More?"

"This should fix your hair," he said, handing her the yellow phial. "The colour, anyway. Not sure it'll do much for the rest, but it should fix the ginger."

She sniffed suspiciously, then frowned bemusement. "Lemons?"

"Drink it, don't, I leave that to you. But, well, as I'm sorting Wheezes anyway…" He trailed off because really, what was he meant to say? Nice things for Gryffindors. Honestly. Draco pulled out the rack of potions he'd set cooling, set them on the counter beside his notes. "And, if you're up to it, something else to test."

Her brows shot up. "What's this?"

He smirked. Handed her the blue, then hefted his red. "It's a Wheeze," he said, and slugged his back before he could think better of it.

tbc


	2. It Worked

See first chapter for disclaimers and plot and such.

Thanks, Sam, for the beta.

Warning: this one makes sap look sour.

* * *

Draco woke in Mum's lab, wearing Uncle Severus' robes, and standing beside a strange, ginger woman holding a phial and reading a note. She swallowed something, and stared at him, then back at the note, then back at him. He smiled because it was only polite, Mum would like that, him being polite to her friends, but he was just a bit worried about it all.

"It worked," she said, like he'd understand, and then her grip on the blue phial slipped.

He reached for it because Uncle Severus had been very clear on potions and Things We Don't Do in the Labs, Master Malfoy, and Draco really didn't want to be sent to his room for playing in the labs again because the strange ginger lady was clumsy.

"Does Uncle Severus know you're here? Or Mum?" Ginger Lady looked like Mum when he and Dad used French. Draco would have ignored her like he did with all Mum's odd friends, but they were in the lab and Draco was tired of being sent to his room for Things We Don't Do. "We're not supposed to be here without Uncle Severus or Mum."

She shook herself and looked pretty gobsmacked for a grown up, really. "You're right," she said with a shaky smile. "Let's get you to the nursery, shall we?"

"Is that where Mum is?" He squinted. "Are _you_ Mum? Is that Polly Juice? Are you Mum pretending to be Polly?" Yes, yes, that was it. He smiled, glad he'd figured it out. Dad would like that, how smart he'd been. "C'mon, Polly Mum. Let's go to the _nursery_."

Like he still needed the nursery. Almost five, wasn't he? Far too big for the _nursery_, whatever Polly Mum said.

* * *

There were kids in the nursery. Other kids. _New_ kids, which Draco liked because playing with Pansy was weird; she kept wanting to play house and Draco had elves for that sort of thing, didn't he? And he thought maybe they were all boys with their mums, and maybe they'd want to play boy sorts of things, which was good because mums were right awful at Aurors and Death Eaters, right awful indeed.

Still, they were new kids. Strangers. In his nursery. So when Polly Mum squeezed his hand and tried to step further into the nursery, Draco looked up and shook his head just a little, sure Polly Mum would understand. She frowned like she didn't, like it was more French, but she leaned over all the same.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? Er, Draco?"

"Strangers," he whispered, moving in close, "in the nursery."

"It's okay. They're friends of mine," Polly Mum said. That didn't help.

"What if they don't like me?"

"I'm sure they will."

"They might not."

"I'm certain they will."

"You said that already." Really, Mum was much better at this sort of thing than Polly Mum; Draco didn't think she should drink any more of that Polly Juice if it was going to make her stare and such like this, and when he said so, she laughed. Which was nice, he liked making Mum laugh like he liked making Dad proud, but it was nicer when she sounded like just regular Mum.

"C'mon, Draco, let's go introduce you to everyone, shall we?" she asked, and the next thing Draco knew, he was face-to-face with the new kids in his nursery.

* * *

"Oh. My. Merlin. Tell me that's not who I think it is, Granger." The dark-haired mum — did she belong to the dark-haired boys? Draco thought maybe she did — stared at him and grabbed Polly Mum's wrist. "What the sod happened?"

"Testing." Polly Mum waved about that note she'd had in the lab, the one that made her look at Draco funny, and the dark-haired mum grabbed at that, too.

"You shouldn't grab people." Draco frowned at his blocks, which were a bit of a baby toy, really, but that's what the dark-haired boys were playing with and the ginger boys were a bit scary, so that's where Draco stayed, right there by the blocks and away from the scary gingers. "It's rude. Not polite at all."

"Hurts, grabbing," said the boy with the glasses, rubbing his wrist. Draco thought he might be a bit of all right, for a speccy boy.

"Does she grab you, too?"

"What? No." The boy's cheeks went all red. Draco liked that, so he smiled. The boy smiled back at first, then frowned and rubbed his wrist again. "Why would you think she did?"

"Isn't that your mum?"

"No."

"Oh. Sorry." Draco concentrated. "Which one's your mum, then?"

"She's not here."

"Are you sure? Maybe she's had Polly Juice, too. My mum looks all wrong, but it's still her 'cause we were in the lab and I'm not allowed in the lab without Mum or Uncle Severus, and Uncle Severus would look pretty silly in a dress, don't you think?" Draco thought so, anyway, and he giggled. He expected Glasses Boy to do the same, because Uncle Severus in a dress? _So_ silly.

Glasses Boy shuffled his feet a bit. Draco thought it looked like a silly little dance, but dancing was fun and Dad wasn't around to tell him Don't Shuffle, Son, so he did the same. And it was fun. Then Glasses Boy said, "My mum's not here, she's dead; she died when I was a baby," and secret shuffling wasn't fun anymore.

Draco thought that one over, because he wasn't sure what to say to people with dead mums. He didn't see any dads anywhere, and there weren't any house-elves, either, and Draco was knackered with this puzzle. "Then who brought you?"

"Erm, her." Glasses Boy pointed at the ginger mum who wasn't Polly Mum. "But I don't know her. I don't know anybody. Aunt Petunia's going to be mad I'm gone, I'm not to leave my cupboard without asking."

Draco thought that was pretty silly, too, a boy in a cupboard like the toys, but that probably meant he'd be all right at playing, really, so Draco asked if he wanted to play Aurors and Death Eaters.

"What's that?" Glasses Boy asked, so Draco explained about good guys and bad guys, because Dad said not everyone understood about Aurors and Death Eaters, so it was really a game for special friends, and Draco thought anyone with a dead mum and silly secret shuffle dances was pretty special indeed.

* * *

When Harry — that was his name, Glasses Boy, _Harry_ — and Teddy and Neville said they'd play, George and Ron wanted to play, too, which meant they had even more Aurors and Death Eaters, which Draco thought was all right.

Except that no one could decide who they wanted to be. Well, okay, _Harry_ couldn't decide, because he'd only just heard of the game. Everyone else wanted to start already, so couldn't Harry just pick something already? But Draco didn't want to play with the others. He wanted to play with Harry, who was too polite to tell the others to shove off even if Draco thought Harry just wanted to play with Draco, too.

Harry seemed pretty scared about all the yelling and such Ron and George and Teddy were doing, too, so Draco stepped in like a proper host should. Mum would be proud. He glanced at Polly Mum for that smile, the "you've been good, wait until I tell your father about this" one she had, and noticed Polly Mum wasn't ginger anymore. Still didn't look like _Mum_ Mum, but she did look pleased, so that was something.

"What are you lot arguing about now?" Polly Mum's ginger friend asked. Draco thought ginger people were far too loud, but he didn't say so, just explained about the game.

"And he wants to be a Death Eater with me, don't you, Harry?" Ron threw an arm over Harry's shoulder and Draco didn't like that. Friend-stealer. He'd have said, too, but Harry didn't look like he liked having Ron's arm on him, so Draco just glared at Ron and folded his arms over his chest and puffed out like Dad did sometimes.

"Nuh huh," Teddy said, shoving in. "He wants to be an Auror with me and Nev, don't you, Harry? You, too, Draco. It'll be fun."

Harry backed away from them both, closer to Draco. "I don't know." Harry looked at Draco for help, and Draco nodded a bit because he could see why someone would want help, with the ginger mauling and such. "What team are you going to be on, Draco?"

Draco really didn't want to pick something until he knew which team Harry would be on, because Harry was his friend and he didn't want to be on the other team from his friend, but Harry wasn't picking and Draco didn't like how Polly Mum's ginger friend was standing so close, really, didn't ginger people understand _space_? Ron was no better.

"Nobody's going to be a Death Eater," Polly Mum's ginger friend snapped. "Honestly, George, Ron, I'm ashamed of you. And you, Neville. And you, Harry. What are you thinking, Death Eaters?" She snorted.

Well, that was it, then, wasn't it? No game without good guys and bad guys, and Draco really wanted to play, so he said, "I will."

"You will not." Polly Mum's ginger friend glared. Draco glared back.

"I _will_. You're not _my_ Polly Mum."

"Draco," Harry said, and he looked upset about something, so Draco moved in to block out the scary gingers. "Draco, are you sure that's a good idea? She looks mad."

"Someone has to be the bad guy, Harry, or there's no game. And if this lot's too chicken to do it themselves, I will." Harry didn't look convinced. "Besides, bad guys have more fun. You can Stun people. And tie them up and stuff. All the Aurors can do is poke at you a bit and ask you silly questions." Dad said so, didn't he? And Dad was always right, Dad knew _everything_.

Harry thought that over. Big thinker, Harry. Draco liked that in a friend. "Okay. Okay, I'll do it, too. We'll be bad guys together." And Harry smiled. Took Draco's hand all on his own.

"Leave them, Gin, they're just playing," Polly Mum's blonde friend said from her armchair. Draco thought Polly Mum's blonde friend might be a bit of all right, too. Maybe that was how it worked, scary gingers and all right blondes. Mum was all right, too, and she was blonde. So was Draco, so maybe that made him all right, too.

"Yes, but did you hear _what_ they're playing? Harry's a _sodding_ Death Eater, Luna. Harry _Potter_'s a sodding _Death Eater_."

"Well, I expect that'll take some imagination, then," Polly Mum's blonde friend said, and Polly Mum's ginger friend looked all white and funny, like she'd swallowed a bug.

* * *

They cornered George and Ron first, because Draco thought maybe getting the gingers out of the game might make Harry happier, and sure enough, when they made Ron squeal under pretend Rictusempra (really just lots of tickling, which Harry liked), Harry smiled. Big. At Draco, who smiled back because it was only friendly, that.

But while they worked on making George tap out and George was laughing that someone called Fred would be so jealous he'd missed all the fun, Neville and Teddy came in behind them and then it was Draco and Harry being tickled, and Harry giggled like a girl so hard, he knocked off his glasses.

He didn't like other people tickling Harry like that, but he really didn't like Harry's glasses being on the floor where just anyone could step on them or something, so he called for an Immobulus like Mum did when she wanted him to Stop That Right This Second, Draco Lucius Malfoy, Before Someone Gets Hurt.

He had to explain that to Harry, too. Really, Draco was starting to question what sort of wizarding house he lived in, if his mum didn't Immobulus him sometimes to keep him safe, but then he remembered Harry didn't have a mum, so maybe that explained it?

* * *

Neville's Polly Mum was called Luna and when Draco asked, no one knew who the dark-haired Polly Mum belonged to except Teddy, who rather thought she was his friend Pansy, but not his mum. Teddy didn't have a mum, either. Dead, he said, and Draco was shocked that there might be two dead mums in one room, it could happen to _any_ mum, maybe, but Polly Mum seemed all right, not dying or anything, even when Draco pretended he wasn't watching. Then Neville said he didn't have a mum, either, he had a Gran and she was scary, only his Polly Mum Luna – Polly Gran Luna? – wasn't scary at all.

So it was a mystery.

Anyway, Neville's Polly Something Luna called them all in for a snack and a story, and Harry got rather excited about the story bit and kept looking around for someone, which Draco didn't like. He liked Harry excited, stories were fun, but he didn't like Harry looking around when he should have been looking at Draco.

"Who are you looking for? Is your Aunt Petunia coming?" Draco really didn't like that, strange Aunt Petunias who didn't know how to do Immobuluses coming around to take Harry home when Draco'd only just met him and hadn't even said they were best friends yet.

"D'you think she might be?" Harry didn't look like he liked that much, either.

"You can't leave yet," Draco said. "You've only just got here." He'd talk to Polly Mum about it if he had to, Harry couldn't go.

Harry smiled. Shy. Draco smiled back because someone ought to, smiles were best in pairs. "D'you think he'll be back for story time?" Harry asked.

"Who?"

"Teddy's Uncle Dragon," Harry said, and Draco barely knew Teddy, let alone his uncle, though Draco had to admit that was a pretty cool name. "He read us a story before. With Grr. I liked it."

Harry shuffled again and smiled at the floor. Draco thought that was pretty silly, Draco wasn't on the floor, no one was, Harry wasn't smiling at anyone, so Draco took his hand and sort of hopped a bit because it was exciting, new friends.

"I'm sure of it," Draco said, and Harry looked up with an even bigger smile, and Draco swung their hands a bit, then raced off for where Neville's Luna was setting out a blanket for them.

* * *

But Teddy's Uncle Dragon didn't come, and Harry looked sad about that, even though Neville's Polly Someone Luna did quite well with her book, and the dragon on the last page ate three Muggles and a cow while she was reading, then burped fire as she closed the book. Draco quite liked that bit.

So, he thought, did Harry.

Polly Mum came over when the story finished, and the dark-haired Polly Mum no one belonged to disappeared when Polly Mum took Draco's hand. The one Harry wasn't holding. Harry squeezed tighter, like Draco was going away, and because he understood that, the importance of not going, Draco squeezed back.

"C'mon, you lot," Polly Mum said, "it's time for your nap."

But she wasn't looking at "you lot", she was just looking at Draco and Harry and their hands, and she smiled like she was sad and happy at the same time. Draco thought Polly Juice did very strange things to his mother and maybe she shouldn't take it again if it was only going to make her sad like this. Not all potions were _good_ potions, after all.

"I promise, just this once," she said, then she looked at the ginger Polly Mum, who sighed a bit and pulled Ron and George off for their naps, too.

"Polly Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Can Harry come over again? To play? He's awfully good at it. Best Death Eater ever." Draco smiled at Harry, who squeezed his hand again.

"Is he?" Polly Mum bit down on a smile of her own. "I quite think that's up to you and Harry to decide, Draco. C'mon, bedtime. You've had quite the day."

* * *

He didn't want to nap, but Polly Mum made him, anyway. Gave him a potion and everything, and it tasted all right, not awful or anything like sometimes Uncle Severus' did, and when he asked what it was for, she sort of smiled and said it was nothing bad, it was to help him get big. So, like vitamins then, and that was okay, he'd take vitamin potion, but he asked could they give Harry some, too, so they could be big together?

Polly Mum said this potion was just for Draco, Harry could have one of his own later if he liked, and Draco thought that was all right, then, so long as he wouldn't be big without Harry it was okay.

She put them all to bed, even made Draco a nice new one out of Harry's spare pillow, and warned about fooling around once the lights were out. As soon as she'd left, Draco tried to talk to Harry about being best friends and such, but Teddy hissed, "Be quiet," and Neville was already snoring, so Harry snuck from his bed to Draco's with only a little prodding.

Draco definitely liked that.

Harry climbed up, and Draco had to help him, and they fell back once Harry'd reached the top of the bed. Draco couldn't help the giggling. Teddy hissed again.

When Harry hissed back, it sounded just like a snake. So Draco hugged him, because Harry looked upset about something and Draco quite liked snakes.

"You have to be my best friend," Draco said into Harry's shoulder. "I like you too much for you not to be."

"Really?" Draco nodded. "Okay."

"No, silly, you say, 'I like you, too, Draco.'"

Harry blinked. Polly Mum had taken off his glasses, so he looked different but still just like Harry. Eyes like dragon scales, Draco thought, and Draco meant dragon. Obviously, they were meant to be friends, just look at Harry's eyes.

"I like you, too, Draco," Harry said.

"Go. To. Sleep," Teddy said, like he was the boss of them, and he thumped a bit on his pillow so Draco pulled Harry up so they'd be resting properly.

Funny, he _was_ sleepy. Soon as his head hit the pillow, Draco yawned, and Harry did, too, and they looked at each other for a moment before giggling again until Harry shushed them before Teddy could.

"You have a nice bed," Harry said.

"We can share," Draco offered.

"We are sharing."

"Next time," Draco said. "Next time you come, we'll share." Merlin, he was sleepy. "Sleepover, m'kay?"

Harry blinked lots like he was sleepy, too. "M'kay." Then Harry sleepy-frowned and said, "He didn't ever come back," like that made any sense, so Draco thought about it.

Remembered Harry looking for somebody's Uncle Dragon, and Draco thought Uncle Dragon wasn't very nice, not coming when he'd said and making Harry sad and all. When Draco was sad at bedtime, Just Regular Mum tucked him in and gave him a kiss goodnight right on his forehead. Polly Mum's juice must have mucked that up, too, because she hadn't done it at all, even to sad Harry.

So Draco did it for him and they fell asleep smiling.

* * *

Which is how Draco woke with Tiny Potter's head on his chest.

tbc


End file.
